Gate River Run

Our writer, Deena Kastor, won the women's title in near American-record time

Leaving the elite athlete tent on my way to the starting line, I leaned over Meb Keflezighi’s shoulder as he was putting on his racing flats. "Catch me if you can," I whispered and ran out of the room. This tease is nothing new to him. It is the line I use in practice every Saturday when I’m ready to start a tempo run; he and Ryan Hall start about three minutes behind. In practice, they always catch me.

For the past three years, this 15K national championship has added an "Equalizer" bonus for the first person to cross the finish line. The women start the race five minutes ahead of the men, the difference between men’s and women’s American records. When the women’s starting gun fired I felt as though we were being hunted.

Race morning temperatures were already climbing into the 70s with 98 percent humidity, my black uniform absorbing the sun’s rays. After running 5:05 the first mile with the other women, I attempted to catch the parade of lead vehicles, police and press trucks so I wouldn’t get caught by the men pursuing us. Running through the neighborhoods, I got encouragement from those who sat on their front lawns. "You go, girl!" and "Go, Deena!" Dogs barked in protection of their beautiful homes. Kids were yelling just because they could.

It was getting warmer. I grabbed water at every aid station we passed. At one of the water stations I briefly wished the Wendy’s paper cup the man was holding out for me, just this once, had a cold Frosty in it. My uniform was getting heavy with sweat. Gross. I began to feel a dehydration headache in my temples.

My watch eventually confirmed I was off of the world record pace I was hoping for on an ideal day. I focussed on fighting off the men who were gaining on me every step. Were those footsteps I heard? Breathing?

Spectators at the base of the Hart Bridge, the crux of this course, cheered loudly. I listened for any clues as to where the rest of the field was. Traditionally, this has been the point in the course that the men pass the women. Climbing the bridge I quickly looked over my shoulder. No one was there. Did I miss them because I looked too quickly? I pumped my arms harder in hopes my feet would follow. The only thing I noticed was how sore my left hip flexor was and the sweat flying off my fingertips.

To my surprise, I held the men off. When I greeted Meb at the finish line, his first words were, "I have a terrible blister." He admitted that he was not focused on catching me, but on pulling away from the two men, Hall and Fasil Bizuneh, who had defeated him earlier this year in the Houston Half Marathon. "It’s been a rough road since New York last fall," Meb said. "This race, personally, was an important one for me to win."

I wish this chivalrous way of racing — ladies first— would catch on. It was fun. The crowds really got into it. I liked the thrill of running scared; It had me pushing harder and sweating more.

All of the 11,300 finishers at this year’s Gate River Run suffered a little, but the joy and celebration of running, plus the loud spectators of Jacksonville, quieted the pain.